


bang bang, my baby shot me down

by justapipe-dream (alexoli96)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Andrew is confused, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Undeath, Do-Over, Introspection, M/M, Older Andrew, Post-Canon, Second Chances, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, and also during i guess, is he wiser tho, sort of not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexoli96/pseuds/justapipe-dream
Summary: He got up as he usually did, and he had coffee as he usually did, with milk and perhaps too much sugar, but when he left the house to go to work he immediately noticed something was not quite right. You see, the problem was this: Andrew had woken up in the past.aka the one where Andrew gets a second chance at a better life because erm time travel





	1. Now he's gone, I don't know why/And 'till this day, sometimes I cry

**Author's Note:**

> yeah I don't... I don't have much to say?  
> please tell me if this needs trigger warnings or archive warnings, I'm still not used to posting here because I.... barely do it oops  
> this is also pretty self indulgent but I don't hate it  
> work and chapter titles are from Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang

The problem was this:

Andrew considered his life to be fairly normal. He got up, he had coffee, he went to work, he came back home, he ignored his cousin’s phone calls, he read and he slept. It was lonely, but Andrew preferred being alone to giving people the power to break his trust. It had been broken far too many times in the past. Andrew had had a nightmarish childhood, a rocky start to his teenage years, time spent in college he’d rather forget, and had spent the rest of his life to that point searching for some kind of normalcy – for normalcy was probably the best he could do. So, because he didn’t think there was anything special about his life, Andrew was confused by what happened on that faithful Saturday morning. He got up as he usually did, and he had coffee as he usually did, with milk and perhaps too much sugar, but when he left the house to go to work he immediately noticed something was not quite right. You see, the problem was this: Andrew had woken up in the past. 

 

Andrew saw the magazines first. There was an actress on the cover and her upcoming movie was being discussed. Well, he remembered that movie. He knew exactly where he'd been when the movie had come out, years ago. Frowning, Andrew slapped the magazine in front of the woman that was behind the counter:

“Is this a remake? Why are they talking about this again?”

The young woman seemed spooked, doe eyes wide and frightened, hunched in on herself. Andrew realized how he must have looked, dressed the way he was and still wearing the armbands after all those years, so he took a deep breath and stepped back. 

“N-no, sir, it’s the first time this movie’s coming out.” Andrew could tell she wasn’t lying, but the other option was not something he thought possible. The other option got people called crazy for believing in it. Andrew had always been logical, practical. Well, perhaps not always, but dreaming of time traveling and parallel universes and other such things was something that had been ripped away from him at a very young age – he’d had to focus on the present if he wanted to survive.

“What year is it?” He demanded, even though he already had his suspicions. When she took too long to answer, undoubtedly confused by the question, Andrew grabbed the magazine and confirmed them. He’d woken up in 2006, thirteen years in the past. Thirteen years in the past was the last place, or time of his life, he wanted to come back to. As painful a year 2006 had been, it was after that he’d started to find his routine. Andrew had needed to forget, and even with his perfect memory, thirteen years of licking wounds in the uneventful life he’d built for himself had made him feel better. But in that moment, even though he’d only been in 2006 for minutes, everything came rushing back at once, like the turning on of a faucet.

 

The logistics of the situation made themselves clear throughout the day. The first thing Andrew did was drive to their old house in Columbia. He thought he might still be dreaming, even though everything around him painted a perfect picture of reality: he could feel the breeze that gave him goosebumps, he could smell the fuel as he filled the tank of his old Maserati, he could hear the roar of the engine as he drove through roads he’d sworn never to drive through again, and he could taste charcoal in his mouth at the thought of seeing the one person he’d had to bury so long ago. When Andrew finally arrived, there was no other car in sight. He’d feared that because it was Saturday, his group would still be at the house recovering from a Friday night at Eden’s. But apparently, and luckily for him, it wasn’t one of those days. In Andrew’s future, the house had been sold, which left him with no keys and, theoretically, no way to get inside. Fortunately, he knew how to pick locks. 

The kitchen was a mess. Andrew didn’t know if the dirty dishes were from the week before or from that morning. There was a blender on the counter that still had something green inside. Probably Kevin’s doing. The living room was slightly better, if only because the kids did not have time to mess around with it before they left. Andrew’s breathing was shaky, and his heartbeat reminded him of a rabbit’s, echoing in his head. It was one thing to learn he was thirteen years in the past, but to actually set foot inside his previous house felt terrifying. For someone who considered himself to be desensitized when it came to emotions, that day was being particularly overwhelming. 

But the communal areas were nothing compared to what hit Andrew when he found his bedroom. For a moment, the universe seemed to agree to stop the time, because Andrew stood frozen in place. It wasn’t just one thing that made it hard to move, it was everything. It was two cigarettes in the ashtray, instead of one. It was Andrew’s old sweaters, but also baggier, lighter clothes that did not belong to him at all. It was crumpled sheets, but on both sides of the bed. It was two unwashed mugs, and Andrew knew if he checked he’d see that one of them smelled like hot chocolate, and the other like plain black coffee. It was everything he hadn’t had for the past thirteen years, everything present Andrew would stop having sooner than he thought. 

Andrew didn’t cry. When he was younger, he’d learnt that crying solved nothing and would probably get him into more trouble. He suffered in silence, letting emptiness take over every time life decided to stab him. The foxes had thought him insensible, a sociopath, and the only person who understood had died at the hands of one. When Neil died, Andrew had retreated back inside his head. His team thought the silence and the distancing meant he hadn’t cared about what happened that day. Andrew knew it meant he’d always cared too much. And as he stared at an empty bedroom that still felt more alive than himself, he realized that he still did. And with that realization came another one. He’d been there, he knew what had happened. Maybe, just maybe, he could stop it from happening.


	2. Seasons came and changed the time/When I grew up, I called him mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!  
> again, chapter and work titles are from Bang Bang by Nancy Sinatra
> 
> i apologize if something I wrote doesn't go with canon, I did a little research but could have missed stuff (and well, some small changes are intentional but those you can tell)

It seemed obvious that he couldn’t tell anyone about his predicament. There were two Andrew Minyards walking around at the same time, and he’d watched enough sci-fi movies to know that it was not the best idea for them to bump into each other. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would just believe him if he told them he came from the future. Andrew needed to come up with a plan, and so he drove around aimlessly, just as he used to do – but with someone in the passenger seat. For thirteen years, all he’d seen when he looked to his right, sat on the black leather of a car that felt too big, was empty space. And at that moment, staring at that space again felt like a reminder. He had to make things right.

The rough outline of his plan led him to Palmetto. He hadn’t thought about everything, but Andrew assumed he couldn’t make things worse. He could get stuck there, or he could go back without saving Neil – those seemed to be the worst outcomes. Not that Andrew knew how to go back to 2019, but he’d cross that bridge later. He couldn’t park the car anywhere near his usual spots, as a Maserati had the tendency to be uncommon and easy to recognize. And because he was not a student at the University anymore. The visitor parking lot near the library was neither too far nor too close to Fox Tower, so Andrew drove there, all the while chiding himself for not putting on something warmer when he’d left his house that morning. He also cursed having quit smoking. Nicotine would have been a soothing distraction. 

The first thing Andrew did when he managed to get inside his old dorm room was run his fingers over the poorly patched window he’d broken. The day he’d punched through that window had also been the day he’d promised Neil he had his back. Neil had made him break that deal, and then he’d walked straight into his grave. Regret hadn’t been a word on Andrew’s vocabulary until that day, and even though he knew he wasn’t at fault, all those ‘what ifs’ haunted him like ghosts with unfinished business. Oh, how he wished he could punch through that window again. Instead, Andrew tried to focus on finding that idiot’s binder and Stuart Hatford’s phone number.

 

“You don’t know me, but I know your nephew. I bet you think he’s dead. He isn’t, not yet. I bet you also think everything’s fine because his father’s in jail. He won’t be in jail for long. I’m sure you can check to see if that’s true. And then he’s gonna go after Nei-Nathaniel. Call this number once you get this, if you still care.” Andrew was standing on the roof of the Tower, as he had so many times before as a student there. Heights were no longer his biggest fear, for he’d already fallen. He’d begun to feel less and less towards others over the years, and indifference had taken over – but he’d also come to terms with his feelings towards Neil. Those had been a kaleidoscope of emotions, and Andrew had called them ‘hate’ because he’d never felt them so strongly before. Then they were taken away, and he knew he had been right to be hesitant and cautious and suspicious. Andrew had vowed to never let himself become so vulnerable again. And yet there he was.

The burner phone started ringing. Andrew had left Neil’s uncle a peculiar voicemail, one that was bound to spark curiosity if nothing else. And criminals were nothing if not curious when it came to people who claimed to know their business.

“Who is this?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded older than Andrew had expected. Tired, maybe, but still demanding. The question was boring, expected. And one he could definitely not answer. In reality, Andrew did not have a script to follow, had no idea how the conversation was going to go. His only hope was that Stuart believed him, and few people had believed him before. 

“Doesn’t matter. Your nephew’s in danger, are you willing to help?”

 

Andrew told Neil’s uncle some of what the feds had told them, and what he’d later found out for himself. He knew the guards at the last game they’d played together had been the kidnappers, because their faces were on the news a few days later. He knew the location of the house Neil had died in, for that information had also been leaked to the press. Through the feds he’d learnt when Wesninski had gotten out, and not much else he could share without sounding crazy. Andrew had also learnt that Stuart Hatford had indeed killed Nathan, but he’d been too late. He couldn’t be too late the second time around. 

Stuart ended the call without saying a word, and Andrew didn’t know whether to feel hopeful or hopeless. He pocketed the phone and decided it would be wise to head to the car before the Foxes finished Exy practice. There wasn’t much more he could do but wait. The powerlessness he felt took him back to a riot, to getting elbowed in the face, to when he’d desperately searched for someone who was not there, to a duffel bag and a countdown on an old phone. Back then he’d had to wait, too. Whether Neil lived or died, remained lost or was finally found, had been out of Andrew’s hands. So, he placed his forehead on top of the steering wheel and waited, like a dog who’d finally learnt a trick.

But then, surprisingly, the waiting paid off. Andrew felt something vibrate against his leg and immediately checked for messages. He read it once, twice, three times. He needed to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Seeing things wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing to have happened to him that day, after all. Andrew cradled the phone like a newborn and let out a breath in relief. On the screen there was a message that read ‘What you said checks out. We’ll be there.’ It was exactly what he’d needed to think that maybe the plan would really work. It was time to change the past.

 

The Wesninski manor did not look like a manor. Andrew didn’t have the address written down, but he didn’t think his memory would fail him. The motel he’d spent a few nights at in Baltimore was worse than his small apartment in the future. He didn’t know if he hadn’t slept because of what he knew was coming, or because of the lousy bed. But the day had finally arrived. The day when he’d last seen Neil. The first and last time someone had told him he was amazing, someone had thanked him and meant it. The house to his right looked abandoned. It was big, but it was falling apart. Andrew couldn’t really imagine his Neil living in that place. Couldn’t even imagine a smaller Neil being prey instead of the mouthy idiot he’d come to know, who would put himself in danger’s way to protect anyone he cared for. 

It was during one of these masochist lines of thought that Andrew spotted a car going way above the speed limit and hitting the brakes just in front of the house. It wasn’t just any car: it looked like a police car. He hadn’t alerted the feds, hadn’t even thought about it. He hadn’t wanted to give himself or the wrong information, or even too much information, away. So, it couldn’t be them, for they hadn’t been on time the first time around. The image became clear when the people got out of the car, however, and Andrew felt like vomiting. A man, a woman, and Neil. But Neil was already covered in blood, already looked like he’d spent time in hell. Was Andrew too late again?

They dragged him inside, and Andrew stopped being able to see him. He double checked that the armbands still held his knives, and almost tripped getting out of the car. Avoiding the windows, he rushed to the door and tried to pick the lock. Silence was everywhere, and even his mind decided to let him work in peace. Still, he had no luck. Criminals had good locks. Andrew shoved and kicked and shoved again, and only remembered he might have been making too much noise when it was already too late. But no one came for him. How could they not have heard him? He went around one side of the house and just as he turned the corner, two inconspicuous black cars with tinted windows parked on the grass, messing with the already abandoned garden. Andrew went back to hiding on the other side of the wall as he watched a middle aged man carrying a gun climb out of the car, followed by some more armed people. The Hatford family had arrived. 

And they didn’t wait around. No more than five minutes afterwards, the sound of shots being fired made Andrew move again. He had to check that Neil was still alive. No one had heard him try to kick down the door to the house because they were all in the basement. A basement that looked like a slaughterhouse. The woman from the car was dead on the ground, but Andrew’s eyes quickly focused on something else. Stuart stood over Nathan, and then he shot him. It was over. Just like that. Neil was lying on the floor, clearly tortured and needing medical assistance, but he was breathing. Andrew could hear ambulances outside, closer and closer, and it had never sounded as sweet as in that moment. He’d made it. He’d made it. 

Then, pain invaded his thoughts of victory. Andrew felt his chest burning and his vision getting cloudy. He looked down. Blood covered his hands where he held them to his stomach. He’d been shot, caught in the crossfire. Quick as it had come, the pain said goodbye. The silence came again. He knew what was happening, but it was alright. At least he’d saved Neil.

 

“I’m not gonna let you sleep in again. New Year's resolutions for 2019 and all that...” Neil announced, gently shaking Andrew awake. He blinked. The sun hurt his eyes, so he covered them with his hand. Somewhere inside their house, the cats were calling, demanding attention. Then the smell of sweat reached his nose.

“You stink, I’ll get out of bed after you shower.” And so he closed his eyes again, feeling rather than seeing Neil laugh against his neck, a grumpy ‘fine’ slipping from his mouth as he sauntered to the bathroom. 

“You know,” Andrew commented from their bed, unwilling to leave its comfort but hoping Neil could still hear him, “I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Oh? What was it about?”

“Time traveling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you decide if it really happened and he woke up in a timeline where Neil lived or if he'd been dreaming the whole time ;)
> 
> me: yay happy ending  
> brain: but do smt sad  
> me: why tho  
> brain: why not?
> 
> characters and canon belong to the lovely Nora Sakavic, seriously ily

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at justapipe-dream.tumblr.com  
> 


End file.
